


if it’s meant to be, it’ll be

by gravityinglass



Series: forever seems lonely without you [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Slice of Life, dumb boys being (mostly) competently in love, magical realism (though not really a plot element here)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 20:59:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14626935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravityinglass/pseuds/gravityinglass
Summary: Ry put his hand on Matty’s wrist before they actually went anywhere and kissed Matty softly. “Hey. I love you.”Matty grinned and stole another kiss. He laced their fingers together, their blockers bumping together. “I love you too. Let’s get this show on the road before any of our brothers try to tag along.”Ry shuddered in mock horror. “What, you don’t want to show Dyls and Marns how a functioning relationship works?”Matty choked. “Absolutely not,” he said. “They can put their big boy pants on and figure out their own shit.”At that moment, someone slammed into the passenger window, causing both of them to jump. Dylan’s grinning face peered at them through the window.“Can I come?” He asked, volume barely dampened by the glass.“Fuck,” Ry shouted. “Go, Matty, go!”Matty was still laughing when he pulled them out into the street, leaving Dylan behind.--Or, Ry has a question to ask. Matty dramatically misreads the situation. A snapshot of an otherwise low-drama life.





	if it’s meant to be, it’ll be

**Author's Note:**

> A little snapshot of life in the Strome-McLeod clan.  
> You don't have to know much about the world mechanics or the Dylan/Mitch drama in the past to understand this, but you probably want to, man. It'll give some context!
> 
> ETA 13/5/18: When checking the Matty/Ry tag, I realized I pulled a similar title from another Matty/Ry fic (presumably because Rob Thomas wrote THE Matty/Ry song) and have changed the title from Hold On Forever to “if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.” Apologies for any confusion!

There were a lot of things about Ryan McLeod that Matty loved, and honestly, this might be one of his favorites.

“Matty, Little Ry’s here!” his mom called up the stairs, and Matty bounded down, almost in disbelief that Ry had actually gone to the trouble of making this a somewhat fancy date, rather than their usual movie night in the Strome basement that usually turned into lazy making out.

His jaw dropped at the sight of Ry in a clean checkered shirt with a collar, tucked into his pants and secured with a leather belt.

“You look like a prep,” he blurted out, then laughed, because hadn’t he done the same thing? His own shirt was blue but it also had buttons and a collar. He hadn’t deigned to switch out of his converse high-tops, but he was rethinking that now.

Ry rolled his eyes and held out a bouquet of flowers, like he’d actually gone to a shop instead of stealing flowers out of old Mr. Forsythe’s garden. “For your mom, since I didn’t think you’d want them.”

“I want flowers,” Matty said, and took them, grinning. “Thank you.”

“You two look adorable,” Matty’s mom said, and she was already had her phone out to snap a photo of when Matty leaned over to give Ry a kiss on the cheek.

“We’re punk rock,” Ry grumbled, but there was no heat behind it. “You set to go, Matty?”

“I have to put these in--”

“I’ll put them in water, Matty, you head on out.”

“You look beautiful,” Ry blurted once the front door was closed behind them, then flushed. “Or--handsome. Hot. Whatever.”

“Aww. I still can’t believe you dressed up and brought me flowers,” Matty told Ry as they walked out to Ry’s car. “You are such a fucking sap.”

“Well, it’s not like I get to take you out on traditional dates much,” Ry protested, and darted to open the door for Matty. “What with us being apart all the time.”

“When you said traditional, I didn’t think you meant 1950s traditional,” Matty grumbled. He swung into the passenger seat, and then slid over to the driver’s side.

Ry barked out a laugh in surprise. “You’re driving, then?”

“I love you,” Matty said. “And I want to keep loving you, which will not happen if you drive us anywhere.”

“I'm not that bad,” Ry protested. He dropped into the passenger seat, pulling the door closed and getting the seat belt buckle caught in the door. “Damnit.”

“You drive like a blind grandmother half the time, and like you’re getting chased by cops the rest of the time, with no warning when you’re going to switch. For the sake of this relationship, I drive.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ry finally got his door and seatbelt wrangled. “Okay. Stop one. We’re going mini-golfing at that place by the thingy.”

“Descriptive.”

“But you know where we’re going, don't you?”

Matty rolled his eyes and put the car in drive. “That proves nothing.”

Ry put his hand on Matty’s wrist before they actually went anywhere and kissed Matty softly. “Hey. I love you.”

Matty grinned and stole another kiss. He laced their fingers together, their blockers bumping together. “I love you too. Let’s get this show on the road before any of our brothers try to tag along.”

Ry shuddered in mock horror. “What, you don’t want to show Dyls and Marns how a functioning relationship works?”

Matty choked. “Absolutely _not_ ,” he said. “They can put their big boy pants on and figure out their own shit.”

At that moment, someone slammed into the passenger window, causing both of them to jump. Dylan’s grinning face peered at them through the window.

“Can I come?” He asked, volume barely dampened by the glass.

“Fuck,” Ry shouted. “Go, Matty, go!”

Matty was still laughing when he pulled them out into the street, leaving Dylan behind.

\--

So, like, Matty grew up in a big, messy family of people who very definitely did not have their shit in order. Sure, he technically only had the two brothers, but he also had cousins and his boyfriend’s brothers, and all the assorted significant others and relevant drama that came with it. Dylan and Mikey in particular were just trainwrecks, and Matty had taken notes and very carefully not done anything the older boys had.

Matty and Ry were the youngest. It was only by a few years, but Matty figured that was why they were the only ones with a halfway functioning relationship. They got to learn from all the shit everyone else had to go through.

People seemed fascinated by the fact that he and Ry had been together for so long. People included one Connor McDavid, who got to witness firsthand the absolute disasters that were Dylan and Big Ryan’s love lives.

Or lives in general, really, Matty mentally amended.

“So you’ve been with Baby Ry since you were twelve?” Connor asked in fascination, eyes flicking from one Strome brother to another. It was the summer ball hockey tournament, and a stunning amount of people had shown up. Half of it was probably people showing up to celebrate Dylan and Mitch’s engagement. The other half were just hockey players missing the game over the summer.

“Ry was twelve,” Matty corrected, leaning on his stick a little. He shoved his hand through his curls, grimacing when it came away damp with sweat. The game hadn’t even begun yet. “I was thirteen.”

“They held hands a lot,” Dylan supplied. He kept fiddling with his amp, even though Marns was right across the yard and there were enough Casters and Breakers here it wasn’t like he actually needed one. “It was cute.”

Matty casually flipped him off.

Connor giggled. It was kind of a weird sound to be hearing from the captain of the Oilers. “It’s not weird dating someone with the same name as your brother?”

Across the yard, Mitch Marner was gesticulating wildly at Connor Brown and nearly decapitated Big Ryan with a particularly emphatic gesture. Matty wished he was part of that conversation instead.

“Not really,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Big Ryan is my brother, and Ry is my boyfriend. Totally different people. And I’d never call my brother babe, so there’s that.”

Connor still looked fascinated. “But you’re both Casters.”

“Yeah?” Matty said, not seeing where Connor was going with this. “We’re also both dudes.”

“I thought—Dylan needed a Match.”

Understanding dawned. Matty snorted, while Dylan flushed red.

“I’m like, a P-2, dude,” Matty said. “So’s Ry. I can barely do heating charms without draining myself for the day, and it’s not like any magic I do is self-sustaining. I get Timmies with a Breaker once a month and I’m good to go. My blocker does the rest. Dyls, though, he’s a P-6 on a bad day. He could Break anything I Cast in his sleep. He needed a Match or else our whole house would be fucked up all the time. “

Dylan was still bright red. “I’m not _that_ powerful.”

“Stop fishing for compliments, it makes you a dick. Remember the time you accidentally Broke the house cooling charms in the middle of summer? Because I do, and it sucked.”

Connor looked about ready to wheeze with laughter. “So you and Baby Ryan aren't like Mitch and Dylan?”

Matty shrugged. “Nah. Ry and I just kinda work.”

 “And you’ve never broken up?”

Dylan cackled. “No, god, Matty tell him.”

Matty took his weight off his stick specifically so he could smack Dylan in the shins with it. “Fuck off.”

“So you--have broken up?”

“Uh, well, we break up for a week once a year,” Matty said. Dylan wheezed with more laughter, so Matty hit him again. “Just to figure out if we’re dating out of habit or whatever. We’ve always gotten back together.”

Connor turned back to Dylan. “So how the hell--what the fuck went wrong with _you_?”

Matty put his hands up. “I’m not getting involved in this one,” he said, and walked away.

He found Ry bothering the oldest McLeod brother at the grill.

“Hey, Baby Matty,” Big Matt said, without looking up from the grill. He was the only one of them who could get hamburgers to reliably stick together when grilling. Their dads had collectively handed grilling off to Big Matt once the ball hockey tournament got over twenty regular attendees. “Came to see how the superior Matt does it?”

“Came to find the best Ryan,” Matty said, and slung his arm over Ry’s shoulders.

 “You found me,” Ry said. He turned his head and collected a kiss from Matty. “Are we sneaking off to make out in the treehouse?”

Big Matt rolled his eyes. “Bring me a beer before you go be disgustingly in love. And the pack of hot dogs in the fridge!”

Ry linked his fingers with Matty, and they went to find Big Matt’s hot dogs and beer.

Matty let himself be led, saying hi to people as they passed, and held the enormous packet of hot dogs when Ry gave it to him. It was the way it had almost always been--Ry lead, and Matty followed.

At thirteen, Matty hadn't looked at Ry, twelve and gangly and covered in perpetual hockey bruises, and thought _I'm going to spend the rest of my life loving you_. He had already loved Ry as long as he had memory, always a touch differently than he'd loved the rest of the McLeods. At thirteen, he’d looked at Ry and thought _why not_ and was dumb and brave enough to try stealing a kiss.

It had been awkward and clumsy, and Matty had run and hid in embarrassment. Ry had found him in the treehouse a few hours later and had demanded a redo. It had still been an awkward, clumsy thing, but it had been _their_ thing. The same had gone for their first few times having sex at fifteen, when it was awful and gross and weird, and then--when they were sixteen and seventeen--they'd figured it out and it became fun and intimate and hot.

in so many ways, Ry had just been easy for Matty. They'd never had to come out to their parents or brothers, not when it had always been something the Stromes and the McLeods just acknowledged quietly. Sometimes they had to come out as a gay couple, and sometimes they had to come out as a Caster couple, and sometimes they had to come out as both, but they had never needed to come out to their families.

Now nineteen, he could hardly imagine life without Ry, without constant phone calls and date nights, without their first plans and backup plans and bright dreams of a life together. They'd done long distance and been attached at the hip for endless summers, they'd been each other's firsts and seconds and hopefully lasts. They didn't keep secrets from each other. Matty always knew what he was getting for Christmas because Ry told him immediately.

It was a simple way to think of a pretty complex relationship, but Matty liked it that way.

Matty and Ryan managed twenty minutes alone in the treehouse, which was officially nineteen more minutes than Matty had expected.

They spent half of that time making out before Matty got the sneaking suspicion they were going to bed bothered by brothers, and then started talking tournament strategy instead.

That was how Mikey and Nater found them, bearing plates with foil wrapped burgers and an harmful of personal-size chip bags.

“Are you being gross?” Mikey demanded, head popping up through the floor.

“We’re holding hands,” Ry called back. “Is that gross?”

 “I thought you said we'd find them making out,” Nater said casually as he followed Mikey up. He passed a foil-wrapped burger to Matty. “This is normal McLeod nonsense.”

“Matty’s hand is in Ryan’s back pocket,” Mikey retorted. “You sure that’s just McLeod nonsense?”

“You and Alex sit on me all the time and you grew up with the Stromes, how the fuck would I know what’s normal?”

“I have never groped your ass and given you an enormous hickey,” Mikey said flatly. He tore into a packet of chips--all dressed, it looked like--and stuffed a handful into his mouth.

Ry and Mikey looked more like each other than Matty and Dylan did. They bickered the same, though. Matty had been around the McLeods his whole life, practically. He’d never really been around without two brothers and two McLeods.

Despite the physical similarities between the McLeods, Matty could safely say he’d never wanted anything to do with Mikey’s dick, or god forbid, Big Matt’s.

Mikey continued after he’d swallowed his mouthful of chips. “By the way, Matty, nice hickey, you chubby overgrown marshmallow.”

“Ry gave it to me.” Matty beamed brightly. “I think your family is part vampire. I’ve seen your girlfriend’s neck before. Well, when you have a girlfriend. I think you scared the last one away by chewing on her.”

Nater snorted. “Ooh, burn.”

Ry reached out and patted Mikey’s shoulder. “Good try. You bring any ketchup chips?”

“I’m not sharing the ketchup chips.”

“Mm. Too bad. I’ll just make out with Matty, then.”

A packet of ketchup chips hit Ry directly in the face.

—

The Strome house wasn’t what Matty would call _clean_. It was a cluttered house, with mail and kitchen equipment stacked on the counters, and hockey gear spread out wherever it happened to be dropped. The laundry room was constantly in use, with baskets of clean and dirty laundry stacked wherever they’d fit. It almost wasn’t a normal morning without someone tearing through the house searching for something and leaving a mess in their wake.

The first time Matty had stayed at a billet house, the intense organization and consistent cleanliness had thrown him. It hadn’t seemed like a home without having to clear off the table for dinner every evening, or having to shift a pile of laundry waiting to be folded before he could sit on the couch. He’d had to remind himself there wouldn’t be a pile of shoes in a half-dozen sizes by the front door, or Mom’s work blouses thrown over the banister to dry. Mostly, though, Matty had missed the constant buzz of magic from the family hearthstone.

The house itself wasn’t that old, but they did have the clan hearthstone, spelled up with hundreds of years of family magic.

Matty liked to brush his fingers over it any time he passed through the living room. It felt like greeting the spells his family had built over the years and imagining what he could add to it, someday.

The McLeods’ hearthstone was younger, a family hearthstone and not a clan one. Matty liked to look at it and wonder what it would be like in a hundred years.

He brushed his fingers against the Strome hearthstone and went to find his mom. He found her in the kitchen with Big Ryan, cutting up watermelon. Big Ryan was cubing the slices their mother handed him.

“Hey, can Ry spend the night?” Matty asked. He felt faintly sunburnt across his nose. “Brownie and Finner wanna crash at the McLeods, and Ry’s room got volunteered. And Marns is staying here already.”

“Sure, honey,” their mom said absently.

“Why does Matty get to share with his boyfriend?” Big Ryan whined. “Whenever my girlfriend visits you make me sleep on the couch.”

“Because the chance of pregnancy in that room is literally negative,” their mom said flatly. “If I tried to separate them, they’d just sneak back in together and cuddle.”

Ryan sputtered. “But--”

“This way I can make them keep the door open,” she continued. “When you’re engaged you can share a room too.”

“They’re _engaged_?”

“No,” their mom said. “But I damn well better see a ring on someone’s finger soon. I’ve been planning this wedding with Judi for years.”

“You really think they’re just going to cuddle?”

Matty decided to chime in then. “Uh, yeah. Because I don’t want to have sex in a house filled with my brothers and in laws, because you’re all assholes who’d never stop chirping us.”

Their mom cuffed him on the back of the head. Matty probably had watermelon juice in his hair now. “Language.”

“That hurt!”

“Well, you should know better.” Mom leaned over and kissed Matty’s head. “Go tell Ry he's welcome to stay the night, but I've got errands for the both of you tomorrow.”

Ry wasn't hard to find. He was sitting on the lawn between their houses, laughing at Dylan and Mikey attempting to wrestle each other. There was a collection of past and present Steelheads--Alex Nylander included, though Matty had no idea when he'd shown up--cheering for Mikey, with a Leafs contingent plus Davo cheering for Dylan.

Matty flopped down next to Ry, his limbs sprawling out inelegantly. “The fuck happened here?”

“I think they're fighting over Mitch’s honor?” Ry said, bumping his shoulder against Matty’s. He had changed, post-game, into a shirt with the sleeves cut off. Matty appreciated the view.

“Nater’s honor,” Willy Nylander corrected, taking a break from making faces at his brother.

“Nater wants it on record he didn’t ask for this,” Nater yelled, and then, incongruously, “Left side! Left side!”

“Alright, then.” Matty nudged Ry. “Mom said you could spend the night. Brownie and Finner can take your room, I guess. Big Ryan’s bitter you and Marns get to spend the night, and he’s got to share with Connor.”

“Uh--”

Matty shoved Ry. “McDavid, dumbass, of the three Connors here, which one would be sleeping at our house?”

“Fair,” Ry said. “Didn't want to assume.”

Ry had a massive bruise blossoming along his shin, and his nose was definitely sunburnt. His hair was still damp from his quick post–game shower, and Matty had never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.

Instead of saying that, he turned to cheer as Dylan finally got the upper hand and pinned Mikey.

\--

“Can I borrow pyjamas?” Ry asked, already pulling his shirt over his head.

Matty grinned a little at the sight of the purpling bruise at the base of Ry’s throat. “You know where they are.”

“Even your Team Canada ones?”

“Touch those and I’ll murder you, boyfriend or not,” Matty said cheerfully. “You know that. Wear the Bulldogs ones.”

“No Steelheads pyjamas?”

“Yeah, those are in the laundry.”

Ry looked amused as he rummaged through the drawer, producing a pair of plaid pants and a Bulldogs t-shirt. “Weren’t they in the laundry last time I was over?”

“Ry. Babe. Those are the first clean pyjamas I use after doing laundry. They are _always_ in the laundry.”

“Aww, you miss me.” Ry climbed into Matty’s bed and made himself at home, immediately hogging all the pillows. It didn’t really matter: Matty was a side sleeper anyways. He’d be burrowing right into Ry’s personal space immediately.

“You gonna ask me any time soon?” Ry asked, watching Matty skirt the various gear on the floor to dump his dirty clothes into the hamper.

“Hm?”

“To marry you.”

Matty shrugged. “Eventually. I wanna crack the Flyers roster first, though.”

“Even if I end up in, like, Anaheim?”

“Even if you ended up in Edmonton with my asshole of a brother,” Matty corrected. “We’ve got time. We already know we can do distance.”

“I want a shiny rock.”

“No, you don’t,” Matty said, and slipped into bed. He immediately tucked into Ry’s side, two six-foot-plus boys trying to fit into a twin bed always an adventure.

Ry shifted, letting Matty sling one leg over his own, and sighing deeply when Matty’s cold nose brushed against his neck.

“You sure?”

Matty snorted. “You want a boring ring you never have to take off and you don’t want to be surprised one bit when I ask. I know you, Ry.”

“Just checking.”

\--

Matty woke up to Ry’s even breathing and Dylan holding a camera six inches from their faces. In the doorway, Mitchy was cackling.

“Can I help you?” Matty asked as dryly as he could.

“You’re both fully clothed,” Dylan said, sounding disappointed.

Matty choked and sat up. “And you’re _upset_ at that?”

“I was hoping for blackmail.”

“Get out,” Ry croaked. “Lemme sleep.”

“You two are boring,” Dylan announced, but left, taking a wheezing Mitch with him.

“Our brothers are the worst,” Ry mumbled, and tugged at Matty. “Come back. You’re warm.”

“Just a bit more,” Matty said, easing back into his spot. “How late do you want to sleep?”

Ry yawned and kissed Matty’s forehead. “Couple of hours? I promised Dylan and Mikey we'd hang today.”

Matty hummed. He counted Ry’s breaths until he fell back asleep.

—

Matty woke up for the second time to an empty bed and the sounds of a vigorous round of two-touch outside his window. The alarm clock on his bedside table claimed it was eleven-twenty-two; far later than Matty usually woke but far earlier than Ry usually would on a day off. Matty wasn’t sure why Ry wasn’t there, given his general propensity for sleeping as late and as much as possible.

He dressed in basketball shorts and a tee with the sleeves cut off, and slumped down the stairs. The only person he found in the whole house was Mitch, in the kitchen, steadily tearing through what looked like half a loaf of toast.

Matty generally liked Marns. Sure, Marns and Dylan had been getting into it for years, but Dylan was an asshole with commitment issues and Marns hated being treated like an obligation. Mitch didn’t let Dylan push him around, which Matty figured would end up being a good thing now that they were finally acting happy around each other.

Seeing as Marns was wearing an old Otters shirsey with Strome across the shoulders and had a hickey the size of Jupiter on his neck, Matty figured they’d worked some of their shit out.

“Where’s Ry?” Matty asked Marns, who shrugged.

“He headed out with Mikey and Dyls about an hour ago,” Marns said through a mouthful of toast. “Said you slept right through him trying to wake you up.”

Marns stretched, and then stuffed another piece of toast into his mouth.

“I wish they’d woken me up,” Matty said, frowning. “Do you know when they’ll be back?”

“Probably before this afternoon’s round of the tournament starts up,” Marns said. “Toast?”

Matty shrugged. “Sure.”

Marns eyed Matty as he buttered a piece of toast and doused it liberally in cinnamon sugar. “You okay?”

Matty shrugged again.

“You can tell me.” Mitch slid his blocker on, and the staticky feeling of the room dropped back to the normal feel of an aggressively-air conditioned house combating Ontario summer heat. “Caster to caster. I think I’m the resident expert around here with relationship messes.”

Matty took a bite of toast. “You swear not to tell anyone?”

“Sure.”

“Ry’s keeping secrets,” he said in a rush. “He doesn’t keep shit from _me_.”

“Maybe it’s a surprise.”

“Maybe he’s planning on dumping me for keeps this summer,” Matty countered.

“That’s dumb,” Marns told him. “Come on, Matty.”

“But what if he is?”

“Then we’ll all murder him,” Marns said lightly. “Hey, more toast?”

It wasn’t that Matty was jealous. It was more that he and Ry didn’t get that much time to actually be together over the course of the year, and Matty could tell when Ry was keeping a secret.

Ry was definitely keeping a secret, and Matty hated that Dylan were in on it, and Matty wasn’t.

Ry got back as Matty was updating the big whiteboard in the garage with individual and team stats.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Matty leaned back and collected a kiss. “Missed you this morning.”

Ry shrugged and hooked his chin over Matty’s shoulder, watching him scribble out numbers from his phone. “Went out with Dyls and Mikey.”

“Without me?”

Ry bumped the side of his head against Matty’s. “Be glad you didn’t come. It was boring.”

It didn’t escape Matty’s notice that Ry didn’t mention where they’d gone, or why, or even who had issued the invitation.

“I could’ve made it less boring,” he said, and updated Mitch’s save percentage. As the newest addition to the Strome Boys team, they’d stuck him in goal since he wasn’t officially married in yet.

Maybe they shouldn’t have. Mitch’s save percentage was _awful_.

“Wow, Mitch is bad,” Ry said, echoing Matty’s thoughts. “Well, makes it easier for us McLeod boys to win.”

“I’m scoring on Nater just for that.” Matty updated Nater’s save percentage, and felt Ry wince.

“So Nater’s an even worse goalie than Mitch, good to know.”

“This can only benefit me,” Matty said. “Have you considered just giving up now?”

“I hate you,” Ry said cheerfully. “If I sabotage my brothers, do I get my name on the cup when you win?”

“Absolutely not,” Matty said, and tried not to wonder what secrets Ry was keeping.

\--

Ball hockey got intense. They played a no-holds-barred variation with no refs or rules, really.

The Strome boys, plus Marns, kicked solid _ass_.

Matty hung around to watch the other matchups to see who’d they’d play in the finals, chirping Ry and calling out insults to other players for the hell of it.

It was hot, though, so when the last game finished up he headed into the Strome house to take advantage of a shower. Sweat was bearable when you were running around, but not when it had dried and made him feel vaguely stiff on top of being sunburnt.

He took a long shower, not worrying about anyone else. Dylan and Marns had both showered during the McLeod matchup, and Big Ry had jumped into the pool rather than fight for a shower. Everyone else would use either the guest bathroom or the pool, or one of the showers at the McLeod house.

Matty finished showering off and went to see if the Strome-McLeod boys wanted to walk over to the ice cream shop four blocks over. The temperature had cooled down considerably; most of the guys who’d come over for the tournament had headed home for the evening or wandered off to visit other local friends.

Even Marns and Nater had gone home, for family dinners. The Strome house was as quiet as it was going to get without hockey season in full swing.

Or maybe it was just as quiet, considering Matty couldn’t find Big Ryan or Dylan anywhere. Even the basement was dark and empty.

Confused, Matty crossed the yard to check the McLeod house. Mikey was at the kitchen table, picking around chunks of tomato in a tupperware of leftover pasta.

“Where’d everyone go?” Matty asked, sitting at the table. “Did I miss a text or something?”

“Dyls went to Marns’ for dinner. Marns’ older brother came home as a surprise and Mitch wanted to ask him to be Witness to the wedding, all properly,” Mikey supplied. He fished a chunk of tomato out and flicked it onto the tupperware lid. “Which was weird since they’ve still got almost a year, but whatever.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Uh, Big Ryan and Big Matt decided to try to see the new Marvel movie again. I’m pretty sure Baby Ry tagged along. I’m gonna use the xbox with everyone gone. You wanna join?”

Matty slumped down in the chair. “Yeah,” he said, missing Ry already. “Got nothing better to do, I guess.”

“Sweet. You wanna start something up? Or, like, wait for me to finish here, I guess.”

“I was gonna see if anyone wanted to get ice cream.”

“We have cookie dough in the freezer, I think,” Mikey said, stuffing tomato-free pasta into his mouth. “Ry always makes sure we have some for you.”

Matty got up and found the cookie dough ice cream in the freezer, right where it always was.

Ry came home with the oldest brothers several hours later, looking tired. It had gotten dark in the interim, and Matty was that kind of comfortable where he’d happily die on the couch if it meant he never had to move.

“How was the movie?” Matty asked, pausing the game with Mikey. In the armchair, Mikey squawked indignantly.

“Movie? Oh, uh, okay, I guess. I liked it better the first time.”

Matty decided not to push. Ry spent the night again that night, and this time he was in bed when Matty woke up.

Matty was the first up, and he spent the time before Ry achieved consciousness studying the little details of his face. Ry’s face was slack in sleep, his blond hair mussed in the way it only ever was before hair gel was applied. He had the fine freckles across the bridge of his nose that all three McLeod brothers had, and his jaw was dropped open as he slept, showing the gap in his teeth that Matty loved to poke with his tongue when they were making out.

“You staring at me again?” Ry mumbled without opening his eyes.

“Always,” Matty said, and wondered how many more mornings like this he was going to get. He’d have to ask Ry at some point about the secret he was keeping; there was only so much Matty could put up with for a secret’s sake.

“Wanna go bug the bros?” Ry asked. “See if we can’t start some kind of, like, water balloon fight?”

They found Dylan and Mitch sitting under the oak tree in the backyard, talking quietly. Dylan wasn’t wearing his amp and Mitch wasn’t wearing his blocker, which was almost grosser than if they’d both been totally naked.

“I’m gonna run to the store and pick up some stuff for one of the spousal spells,” Mitch said once he caught sight of them. “Your grandma’s writing gives me a headache.”

Matty glanced at the paper in Mitch’s hand, and saw Dylan’s cramped handwriting translating their grandmother’s writing for Mitch. “Yeah. If you weren’t Clan, it’d be total gibberish. But if you were a blooded Strome, you’d see it as a neat block print. You’re confusing the privacy spell.”

Dylan shrugged. “I thought I was just used to Grandma.”

Mitch looked intrigued. “You think she’d teach me that trick?”

“When you marry Dylan, maybe.”

“I can live with maybe.” Marns shrugged. “Anyways, wanna come with? Dyls already said he wanted to try to catch Connor in the two weeks he’s around Toronto, and I thought I’d give them some BFF time.”

“He’d love to see you,” Dylan protested, but there was no heat in his voice.

Matty pushed his hair back. “Yeah. I need a new battery for my blocker, and Mom always wants fresh sage.”

“Which shop are you going to?” Ry asked.

“I was gonna try Canadian Tire first for some of the simpler stuff. Then I was going to try the little specialty Caster store down by the lighthouse.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Matty saw Ry go a little pale, and Dylan look entirely suspicious.

“I’ll tag along,” Matty said. “Ry?”

“I think I’ll go bug Big Ryan about what getting drafted is like,” Ry said. “You go have fun.”

Marns frowned. “You could talk to us in the car, y’know. Like. Most of us have been drafted.”

“Yeah, still.”

Matty paused. “Okay, hang on. Ry, can I talk to you?”

“Sure?”

Matty took Ry’s arm and dragged him up to his bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t have to tell you everything,” Ry said. “Goddess, Matty. Trust me a little.”

Stung, Matty closed his eyes for a moment and struggled to get himself under control. “Okay. Right.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“I don’t _care_ what you mean! You never hide anything from me! First you keep sneaking off with my brothers, and you lie to me about where you’re going, and you won’t tell me where you’ve gone or why or what you did, and I don’t _care_ anymore! If you’re gonna break up with me, just do it so I don’t have to keep going out of my head!”

“But that’s not it at all,” Ry protested. He dropped to one knee and Matty’s breath caught.

Ry fumbled in his pockets and produced a little flat white box.

“It's not a ring,” Ry said, holding out the jewelry box. “But I wanted you to know I was serious. Y’know. About us, and forever.”

Matty punched Ry in the arm. “I thought you were getting ready to dump me!” he hissed. “You wouldn't talk to me, you dick!”

“In what world would I dump you?” Ry demanded. “ _Matty_.”

“I dunno, one where you don't tell me where you're going and sneak off with Dylan!”

Ry snorted. “He was helping me pick something out for you, nerd.” He fumbled with the box, and fished out the delicate charm, strung on a thin chain.  “It's a crown. Cause, uh, Ryan means little king.”

“You're a nerd,” Matty said in delight. “Put it on me.”

The little crown was set with little orange chips that glittered.

“For the Flyers,” Ry said. “They’re not like, real jewels, but they are orange. So there’s that.”

“I love it,” Matty said immediately. He fingered the charm gently, loving the texture of it.

Ry leaned over and kissed Matty, long and slow but still relatively chaste.

“I thought you wanted me to propose,” Matty said, when they separated.

“Someday, yeah. You’ll propose and I’ll say yes. But this is me saying I’ll say yes when you do ask.” Ry kissed Matty again. “I had Marns and Nater help me, but it’s charmed to be unremarkable.”

“Huh?”

“We had to get a permit for it, but it’s spelled for people to see it and not think anything of it.” Ry grinned, a lopsided think. “I did paperwork for you, Matty. Appreciate it.”

“A permit?”

“Yeah. We had to prove it wasn’t a weapon or anything, and document the need for secrecy.” Ry reached out and touched the charm. “But now no one has to know about it unless you want them to.”

“You say that like I'm not going to tell everyone in our clan immediately.”

“I figured. But the charm should help minimize the chirping.”

Matty pulled Ry into his lap, the both of them tumbling onto the bed together. “I love it,” he said quietly. “And you.”

“I know,” Ry said.

—

Marns plopped down next to them on the grass.

“All sorted out?” he asked. “No one’s leaving anyone?

“Nah, but fuck you for letting me think that,” Matty said. “Just fuck off.”

“Dyls and I had to suffer,” Marns said, lifting his wrist.

If Matty looked closely, he could see the reddish outline of Marns’ questmark, not yet faded away. He winced, remembering the mess the last year had been. It had been hard not to take sides when Dylan and Mitch had both been trying so hard to make each other miserable.

“Only makes you stronger,” Marns finished softly.

Matty slotted his hand into Ry’s. He leaned on Ry’s shoulder and let himself breathe deeply, knowing this was a future that wasn’t going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr at satellitesandfallingstars!


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